A few weeks ago I woke up anxious about a few things: a lack of clarity on a project I’m working on, the misfortune a friend recently experienced, an upcoming trip, general planetary vibes. But then while putting away the dishes, my finger glanced off the kitchen cabinet at just the right angle and a long splinter wedged under my fingernail, puncturing the nail bed.
The pain was shocking, rippling up my hand and into the neighboring fingers. I could see the lance of bruise-colored material through my nail, but it went deep enough that none of it was exposed; I couldn’t even attempt to pull it out.
The other day, not long after flying into Seattle to house- and pet-sit while my family took a much needed vacation, I felt a sensation in the back of my throat that I’ve come to associate with post-nasal drip.
Almost every time I’ve flown out to visit that wing of my family in recent years, I’ve come down with a four-day upper-respiratory something-or-other that’s not-fun for two of those days, and miserable for the others. I had work to do (my own, plus the tasks and chores associated with keeping a cat, dog, and two houses alive and thriving) but at that moment, all my attention swung inward. While I assiduously performed my various duties, I knew what I was in for, and all the stresses associated with every other aspect of my life and my Seattle commitments made way for this new, more immediate and pressing concern.
After visiting urgent care and getting that bit of wooden shrapnel removed (while numbed up, thankfully), I tottered home. All those responsibilities were still there, waiting for me. When that fresh bout of Seattle-itis cleared up, I still had all the same tasks to handle, work to do, concerned thoughts to think.
It’s remarkable, though, how those sorts of worries all but disappear when something more salient (or painful, or uncomfortable, or worrying) crashes into our lives, consuming our previously spoken-for concern capacity. And it’s notable that my not fixating on those things for a few days didn’t leave me any worse off: if anything, they seemed like smaller issues, barely worth a thought, when I spent some time worrying about something else, for a while.
I don’t think I’ll be shoving shivs under my fingernails to ease my unsettled mind any time soon, but I may try to remind myself of just how purposeless all that worrying is the next time I find myself jittery about something less intense than painful sickness or even more painful tissue damage.
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